


Photographs

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Lost Boys (1987 2008)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-29
Updated: 2004-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael likes to take pictures of Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographs

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a series of photographs taken by "biodoll" with my own fannish interpretation added. The website, artist, and LJ have since vanished off the Net. Explicit, fucked up and twisted brotherslash here. If you do not like the idea of coercive and/or abusive sex between brothers, please do NOT continue reading. Sammy's of legal age at this point. Descriptions of bruises, wounds, and other physical signs of abuse. Implied vampirism.

Michael had the Polaroid in his hand. "Lie down, first. On your side."

Sammy eased himself down on the mattress, his skin protesting the movements. He bit his lip in concentration as he leaned over, stretching over the mattress until he was on his side, his back displayed towards Michael. He pulled the pillow under his head and folded his hands against his cheek to give it a little extra elevation.

"Stretch your neck out a little. Head down. Yeah, right there."

The flash made Sam's eyes close automatically. He always hated getting his picture taken; he was always making faces at Mom when she'd take it out at every inconvenient moment. The back of his neck burned, and he could still feel fingers digging into his flesh, skin-short nails scratching shallow lines. Lower on his neck, closer to his shoulder, Michael had bit him. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make a bruise, further darkened when he had begun to suck.

"Roll your shoulders, like... yeah, like that."

Sam curled forward, turning his face into his fists as the skin of his back pulled tight. Long lines of fire opened as muscles ached with the stretching. Every little movement brought them to life--the superficial scrapes, the deep bruises, the stinging bite marks.

Michael's hand, wide and warm, spread out in the curve below his ribcage. Sammy held his breath, waiting for anything, but Michael's hand simply slid down his hips, pushing the band of his briefs down until enough flesh was visible. His hand traced the line as he moved away, and Sam had to work to keep from shuddering when the camera whirred with another shot.

When Michael touched him this time, Sammy did shudder. His warm hand closed around his shoulder, squeezing just enough to leave a tissue-deep reminder of his touch. He pulled until Sammy rolled limply onto his back, his limbs falling out around him, waiting for his brother's directions. Michael slid his hand across Sammy's chest, the salt of his touch making every skintear whisper up Sam's spine.

Sammy kept his face turned towards the pillow, eyes closed, not watching as Michael rubbed the wounds. The pads of his fingers pressed into tender spots, the little dark circles dotting his upper chest. His nails skipped up the path of marks up to Sammy's jaw. His long fingers fanned out the length of it, brushing against the ring that dangled from Sam's ear. "You're so beautiful," Michael whispered.

Sammy opened his eyes to see Michael leaning so close, his blue eyes filled the room. Their lips met, and Sam closed his eyes again, blindly opening his mouth to Michael's kisses. He could taste copper on his brother's lips, the sharp metallic flavor of blood. Sam's tongue chased the taste to his teeth, his tongue, licking away the traces.

Michael pulled back abruptly, sucking in a deep breath. Sam's eyes opened, widened as his brother looked down with a golden gaze, tongue lingering in the places Sam's had touched. A blink, and the look was gone, replaced by a cool blue that made Sammy's skin burn.

Michael's hand slipped from Sammy's jaw. His fingers skimmed his chest until he rested his palm flat against the shallow dip of Sam's stomach. He pressed down lightly, just enough to tell Sammy to stay. He obediently froze, watching those eyes as Michael's gaze dipped down. The camera settled against Sammy's side, warm where Michael's palm had held it.

Michael spread both his hands across Sammy's narrow waist, the curve of the palms fitting perfectly against the tips of his hipbones. Michael settled between Sammy's outstretched legs, his gaze focused on the shallow shell of Sam's navel. The muscles of his arms barely twitched as Michael moved his hands down, catching the low-riding band of Sammy's briefs and nudging them down further. He stopped at the line of trimmed hair, tugging the sides down around until only his genitals were covered, opening up as much smooth, flat skin as possible.

Michael rubbed his thumb against his right hip, lingering over short cuts shadowed by a large bruise. The edges were uneven, jagged--gnawed open. He bent down, licking away the reddish traces until the wounds were clean lines, vibrant against creamy white skin. "Perfect." Again, the camera was in his hands. Sam turned his face away as the flash sparked colors against the back of his eyelids.

Michael barely paused between pictures, moving a little above Sammy as he aimed at a new patch of flesh. The camera whirred and clicked as it spat out a new picture. Michael's hand cupped Sam's right hip again, thumbing the bruise as he pulled. Sam moved accordingly, twisting his back and tilting his hips until Michael made him stop, positioned perfect for the camera.

"Roll over," Michael commanded, moving off the bed.

Sam stretched out on his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow. He waited, listening for commands or the camera. Fire burned down either side of the base of his spine as Michael gripped the band of his low-riding briefs and pulled them all the way down, leaving the mounds of his ass bare.

"Elbows and knees."

Sam moved to obey, feeling the last of his clothes slide down to his knees as he rose up. His hands twisted in the pillow, bringing it up to cover his face. His eyes opened a crack, enough to see Michael moving around his head as he looked for the perfect angle. With impersonal touches, he positioned Sammy's head down before clicking off one more shot.

"Beautiful." Michael's voice was throaty, and his vowels drew out into a long purr until Sammy barely recognized the word. The Polaroid clanked as Michael half-dropped it to the floor.

Sam braced himself, steeling his spine, but he still trembled when Michael ghosted his hand up the inside of his thigh, barely touching the surface of his skin. Sammy was still sore, still wet and open and aching as Michael pressed his fingers inside, and he moaned against the vaguely painful pressure. Michael made a shushing noise through his teeth, almost a hiss but without the edge of danger. His other hand came up to squeeze into the bend of bone where hip met thigh, and that was about all the warning Sammy had before Michael replaced his fingers with the full length of his erection.

He pushed his face into the pillow, blocking sight and sound and smell as his brother drove into his body. Sammy's skin burned inside and out from tiny wounds coming to life under Michael's touch, and he gasped short, sucking breaths though his teeth, bracing the weight of both their bodies on his elbows and forehead. Michael pulled on his hips with the fury of his thrusts until Sam's knees nearly came off the mattress.

He was just starting to go numb, just beginning to lose that rough edge of pain, when Michael let go, pushing Sam roughly away. Blood-warm wetness landed heavy on his skin, stinging where it oozed into cuts and scrapes. Sammy waited, holding his breath, before he started to sit up.

"Don't move."

The wetness cooled into spots of cold on Sammy's back and ass, but he stayed still, waiting for a command. He could feel the slow leak of thickening blood seeping from his bruised hole, old wounds reopened from the ferocity of the fucking. And still, he waited. The room was quiet, every sound muffled except his breathing and his fast-beating heart.

Finally, Sam moved, just a little, barely lifting his head from the warm, wet nest of the pillow. Through the crescent of his eyelashes, he saw the flash, heard the whine of the camera motor.

"Perfect."


End file.
